Sophie

FIC: The Story Ends Like This, Willow/Tara, PG

2008-03-24T14:52:43Z

Title: The Story Ends Like This
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Willow/Tara, Tara-centric
Rating: PG
Summary: A look back on Tara's life, sort of. Spoilers up to season six.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author’s notes: Written in 2005 for a Christmas Calendar.

It doesn’t matter where you start. The story ends like this: the pretty girl dies.

Tara smiles brightly. She’s standing in front of the window, and she’s happy, so happy. In this moment not even a bunch of crazy geeks can change that.

When they kiss, Tara can forget everything that happened. Just knowing she can still forget is enough for her to forgive, and she doesn’t object when Willow pushes her jacket off her shoulders.

Tara doesn’t want to leave, of course she doesn’t want to leave, and she can hear Willow in the bathroom. She wants to go to her now, she wants to believe it’ll be all right, but the part of her who can pretend nothing has happened got lost among shattered green glass.

Shattered glass. She frowns, there’s something…

She’s always been shy, she’s always been brave. At some point Tara has learned it’s not a contradiction, and after she’s faced down her father and defeated a goddess, she can stand up to her girlfriend.

She could have died then, huddled with Anya behind a rock, standing in front of Buffy’s grave, in pursuit of a vampire. Tara takes Willow’s hand, they’re both still there.

Willow is everything when the world turned against her, and she clings to her even when she’s pushing her away. It scares her, what she sees; Willow’s eyes are green and dark with love.

There’s no point in time Tara doesn’t love her, and she tells her by looking for a blue pullover even though the purple one is fine; she presses a kiss to her forehead and she holds her at night, her hand between Willow’s thighs as Willow gasps and gives up trying not to cry.

Tara’s never told anyone about the big pineapple. Willow listens, so she tells her about the moose, too.

The way Willow looks at her makes her shiver, but she isn’t cold. Tara’s arms tighten around Willow as their feet leave the ground and she can feel the stars.

Willow is strong, but Tara doesn’t feel weak in her presence. Willow’s power gives her strength in return and she learns defiance and defence, she learns to smile in a new way, she learns to look up.

Willow comes for her in the dark, carrying a candle and Tara knows she wouldn’t change a thing, she’d do everything the same. Desire turns Willow’s eyes almost-black and it’s all Tara sees.

Their eyes meet, and Tara smiles. Willow’s shirt is red, covered in red, pink. She frowns, a little shy, and that’s when she falls.

FIC: Some of us are looking at the stars, SGA/Rome Crossover, PG

2008-03-24T14:38:36Z

Title: Some of us are looking at the stars
Fandom: SGA/Rome
Characters: John, Rodney, Titus Pullo
Rating: PG
Summary: John and Rodney travel to Ancient Rome.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Title quote by Oscar Wilde, the bit at the beginning is a direct quote from Rome.
Author’s notes: Written in 2005 for a Christmas Calendar.

Titus Pullo: What are they? Stars?
Lucius Vorenus: Stars? Holes in the celestial spheres. Holes through which the light of the heavens shine.
Titus Pullo: How big are these holes?
Lucius Vorenus: Big. They only seem small to us because they are hundreds of miles away.
Titus Pullo: Big enough for a man to climb through?
Lucius Vorenus: I suppose. A man would never be able to get up there in the first place.
Titus Pullo: I don’t see why not.
Lucius Vorenus: How?
Titus Pullo: He could – hold on to a giant bird.
Lucius Vorenus: (laughs) It doesn’t work like that.
Titus Pullo: Why not?
Lucius Vorenus: It’s philosophy. Hard to explain.

“Ancient Rome?” Rodney followed John outside the puddlejumper and squinted at the silhouette of the city barely visible in the dark.

“Well, at least we now know what the thing does.” John jerked his head in the direction of the ‘jumper they had found in a previously undiscovered bay of the city. Of course he had suggested to take it out for a ride, and of course Rodney had agreed because that seemed to be what he did these days.

“That’s great, Major. Now all I have to do is figure out how exactly it works and fix it, so we can get back to Atlantis rather than, say, get eaten by lions. Or ending up as slaves.” Rodney turned to John, his eyes widening in terror. “Oh god, we’re going to end up as slaves, aren’t we? I’m going to be some rich boy’s teacher while you’re keeping his mother company. Or his father. And then the boy will grow up and you will get old and we’ll end up getting eaten by lions anyway.”

“Calm down, Rodney. We don’t even know if it’s broken yet. For all we know, this really was supposed to happen.” John started circling the ‘jumper. They had landed on a deserted field apparently not too far away from the city. They were pretty exposed, but even though he hadn’t managed to activate the cloak, it looked as if nobody had seen them arrive.

After John had tried to activate the device in the ‘jumper according to Rodney’s instructions – which, to be fair, had mostly consisted of, “Just do what you always do” – there had been a flash of light, and once they could see again they found themselves in Earth’s orbit. Rodney’s initial excitement about where they were had died down pretty quickly once he had realized when they were – 48 B.C.

John had decided that could at least try and catch a glimpse of Rome now that they were already there, and so there they were.

“Right, because sending us 2,000 years back in time makes sense how? And that is not considering the fact that we also got transported through space as well, into another galaxy. If the readings in the ‘jumper are correct, that is.” Rodney went back inside to fetch his laptop.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure they are. And – you think you can get the cloak working any time soon? Because someone’s coming. And he looks kinda Roman.” John returned to the entrance of the ‘jumper, his hand on his Beretta.

“What? How many are there?” Rodney asked even while typing frantically.“Ah, good, that wasn’t so hard. Could you-“

John powered the cloaking device and joined Rodney in the ‘jumper. Only a few moments later, the Roman reached the spot John had been standing.

“Hello?” he called. Rodney looked at John, who put a finger to his mouth and shook his head. His right hand was still on his gun.

“Hello?” The Roman called once more. He took one step in the direction of the ‘jumper. “Where did you go? I saw you – you were coming from the stars, and I just – I wanted to ask you something.”

Rodney frowned and John shrugged. They watched the other man stare blankly at them, dangerously close to the edge of the shield. As he finally turned to leave, John noticed the disappointment on the other man’s face.

“Wait.”

At the sound of John’s voice, the man halted.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rodney hissed. John simply raised his hand and continued to talk to the Roman.

“Who are you, and what do you want to know?” he asked him.

The other man stood attention. His face was full of wonder. “My name’s Titus Pullo, member of the thirteenth regiment, sir. I mean, er, your highness. I mean – are you gods?”

There was a dangerous glint in Rodney’s eyes, but before he could reply, John continued.

“No, we’re just – ordinary people.”

Titus Pullo frowned. “Ordinary people? But – you came from the stars, didn’t you? And you’re invisible. How is that possible?”

“It’s-“ While John was looking for the right words, Rodney interrupted him.

“We come from a different – well, let’s just say we’re from somewhere else, and where we’re from, even people who aren’t gods can travel to the stars. It’s very complicated and you really wouldn’t understand.”

“How?” Pullo asked. “How do you get to the stars?”

“With the help of an aircraft,” John explained. “It’s like a ship, or like a bird, a sort of – giant mechanical bird.“

“A bird?” Pullo looked into the direction Rodney’s voice had come from.

“You could say that, yes,” Rodney replied.

He smiled. “Good. That’s all I wanted to know. That it’s possible. That the holes are big enough.”

“Actually –“ Rodney started, but John put a hand on his arm. “You’re very right. There are giant holes in the sky and we, only almost-godlike people can get through them with the help of birdlike machines.” He rolled his eyes, but John had put his hand on his arm and his voice wasn’t as scathing as it could have been.

“Will you travel there again?” Titus Pullo glanced upwards at the sky.

“We’ll definitely try, yes. Right, Rodney?”

“Right.”

“Then I wish you a safe journey.” He suddenly looked straight at John and John had to remind himself he couldn't see them.

“Thanks. You too.”

Titus Pullo saluted, a small smile on his face. And then he left without looking back once, walking swiftly in the direction of the city.

“Well, that was certainly interesting,” Rodney said finally. “Now, do you think we can get back home or do you still feel the need to act on your gladiator fetish?”

“Shut up, Rodney.” John sat down in the pilot seat and started up the ‘jumper. As they went into the air, he turned to Rodney and grinned. “Hey, did you see his sword?”

FIC: Empowerment In Itself, Tom McLaughlin/Daniel Holt, NC-17

2006-03-21T21:25:22Z

Title: Empowerment In Itself
Fandom/Movie: H2O
Pairing: Tom McLaughlin/Daniel Holt (PG/CKR role pairing)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Tom doesn’t have time for sex, and he cannot allow himself to be distracted.
Disclaimer: The characters aren’t mine, they belong to Paul Gross and John Krizanc. I just couldn’t resist.
Author’s notes: Big thanks to many_miles_away for idea bouncing, hand holding, encouragement and beta.

This story is set right after McLaughlin’s speech about the implementing of the Emergency’s Act; that is the night after he’s first seen the picture of Daniel Holt.

The title is taken from a quote by Gloria Steinem: “Power can be taken, but not given. The process of the taking is empowerment in itself.”

~*~*~

Empowerment In Itself

Tom falls asleep that night, the image of his father's killer etched into his mind. He has dreamed about drowning before, again and again ever since his sister died, but never have his dreams been this vivid. He can feel the water closing in on him, and he gasps, fully aware it will do no good, will, in fact, kill him. The water is filling his lungs now, and there are hands, strong and slender, hands wrapped around his neck holding him down, and he tries to fight them, but he cannot lift his arms. He can't move anymore; he is tired, tired, tired.

Tom wakes up with a gasp, trembling and hard. He doesn't have time for this, he thinks and pushes back the face of Daniel Holt as he gives his cock a few long, well-practised strokes until he comes.

~*~*~

Tom doesn’t have time for sex. He doesn’t need it. Each day, another piece of his puzzle slips into place, and it gives him a rush that is beyond sexual pleasure. Yet every night he wakes, panting and hard and thinking of him.

Tom doesn’t have time for sex, and he cannot allow himself to be distracted.

After five nights of dreams, Tom picks up the phone. Two hours later, there is a knock at the door. He could have told him to meet somewhere else – a hotel room, a back alley, a car – but Tom knows people pay the least attention to what happens right in front of them. His mother is fast asleep – alcohol and her new medication mix well.

Tom is sitting at his desk, staring at Holt’s open file before him. He doesn’t know what he is looking for, exactly, and he doesn’t know what to expect when he hears the door open behind him. He covers Holt’s picture with a letter from the U.S. ambassador before turning around.

Holt is leaning against the doorframe with a faintly amused expression. He looks older than on the picture; Tom suspects it is as much the lack of uniform as the fact that he has, of course, aged.

Tom has met killers before; has, at times, defended them. But this is the man who killed his father, and without him, Tom wouldn’t be where he is. They told him he ought to be grateful. Tom doesn’t like it when people tell him what to do.

For once, he is at a loss for words. What does one say to the killer of one’s father? Good evening seems hardly appropriate; You killed my father overly melodramatic. Tom leans back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Holt’s.

“What do you want?” Holt’s voice is quiet and steady. The door behind him is still open, but there is no light in the corridor.

Aye, there’s the rub. What does he want? Tom moistens his lips and tightens his grip on the chair. Control. Power. “How much did they pay you?” Tom asks.

“Enough.” Holt grins. “I didn’t do it for the money, though.”

“Then why did you do it?” Tom finds he is honestly curious.

Holt shrugs. “It’s what I do.” He glances over to the couch and raises his eyebrows. Tom nods curtly, and Holt closes the door before crossing the room and sitting down. He leans back against the couch and spreads his legs easily.

“Do you like what you do?” Tom’s gaze flickers to Holt’s hands. His fingers are long and slender, the hands of an artist. He pictures them wrapped around his father’s throat. His own throat. He shifts in his chair.

“It’s a job.” For the first time, Holt doesn’t look like he knows where this is going. He has followed Tom’s gaze and now eyes him curiously.

“But you just said you didn’t do it for the money.”

“I don’t. Money’s not the problem. It’s what I know, what I’m trained to do.”

“Besides, you’re dead.”

“Yeah, there’s that too.” He chuckles. “It happens. It gets pretty confusing out there. All they found of me was a heap of burned flesh, unidentifiable. Car bombing. No dogtags, but I was supposed to be in that car, so people assumed. It was just a matter of being in the right place at the right time.”

Tom doesn’t ask, But why didn’t you say anything. It is clear to him that Holt enjoys being a ghost. He probably arranged it, too, but he doesn’t want to know. He looks at Holt, who is smirking at him. Tom feels like punching him, but he knows that is what Holt expects. Punishment for his sins. Tom doesn’t want to punish him.

“Blow me,” he says. Holt looks up, surprised.

“What?” he asks.

“You heard me. Blow me.” Holt narrows his eyes at him. Tom meets them steadily, even though he himself doesn’t know whether he is bluffing or not. Then Holt nods.

“Okay.” Holt gets up slowly. He only has to take two steps to stand in front of Tom. Tom spreads his legs, eyes still on Holt’s, daring him to back down. Holt doesn’t, Holt kneels down and swiftly opens his belt, unbuttons his pants, slips down the zipper. He’s smirking again, and Tom doesn’t want anything more than wipe that smirk off his face, to show him who is calling the shots. He pushes Holt’s hands away and takes out his cock himself.

“Do it.” Tom watches as Holt licks his lips. He doesn’t expect Holt’s fingers wrapping themselves around his cock and he hisses as he feels himself harden. He hadn’t actually thought he would find this arousing, but it has been a long time since he felt someone else’s hands on his cock. Tom closes his eyes and he sees the same fingers closed around his throat. He moans and he can hear Holt chuckle again, and angrily grabs his head and pushes him towards his cock. The thought that Holt might hurt him doesn’t cross his mind; he is the one in control, he is the Prime Minister of Canada, he is Tom McLaughlin.

Holt opens his mouth and swallow’s Tom’s cock, and Tom has to fight hard to keep in control of himself. Holt’s mouth is hot and wet and Holt is sucking him, and fuck that feels good. He starts thrusting into Holt’s mouth, harder and deeper than he would with anyone else, and he waits for Holt to complain but he doesn’t. Tom wants to pull at his hair and force some reaction from him, but instead he pushes Holt away.

“Stop!” he gasps and Holt raises one eyebrow.

“What? Something wrong?” His voice is mocking, and Tom has had enough.

“Get up,” he hisses, and he grabs Holt by his shirt and drags him upwards. Tom pushes back his chair and shoves Holt against his desk.

“You wanna fuck me? Is that it?” Tom wishes Holt would look terrified, abhorred, anything but amused. Holt is already unfastening his pants and Tom can see he is hard and it confuses him. This still isn’t what he wants, but he is beyond the point where he could return. He grabs Holt’s pants and pulls them down before turning Holt around. Holt braces himself on the desk and leans forward, legs spread, offering himself even though Tom wants to take. It’s infuriating, and Tom feels completely helpless.

His cock is already slick, glistening with precome and Holt’s spit, but it won’t be enough. Tom pulls open the top drawer of his desk and takes out a small bottle of hand lotion. He is about to open it when Holt twists under his hands, pushes him backwards to reach down to his pants and pull something from his pockets. He hands Tom the condom, grinning.

“After all, you don’t know where I’ve been.” Did you see this coming? Tom wants to ask, but again he doesn’t want to know the answer. He is the one who is calling the shots and Holt couldn’t have known it. Holt doesn’t know him. Tom hastily tears open the package and rolls the condom over his cock. He quickly slicks himself up but doesn’t bother with Holt, who hasn’t seemed to expect anything different.

Tom positions his cock at Holt’s entrance before gripping his hips with both hands. He pushes inside almost ruthlessly, but ends up sliding inside him too easily. He is about to ask, Do you do this a lot?, when the sensation of being inside another man overwhelms him. Holt is hot and tight around him, and Tom pushes down deeper and further until he is buried up to the hilt of his cock.

Holt hisses, and Tom cannot tell whether it’s from pain or from pleasure. He waits a moment to collect himself, and that is when Holt says,

“It was nothing personal, you know?” His voice is conversational, and Tom’s grip on Holt’s hips tightens.

“Neither is this,” he replies through clenched teeth before he starts thrusting into him. He doesn’t care whether Holt is enjoying it, wishes he wouldn’t, but Holt bucks and moans under him and Tom suddenly realizes Holt knows everything about him. Holt knows everything about him, and he will use it against him. Tom has to admire that.

Tom starts fucking him in earnest, harder and faster, pistoning into him again and again until he comes with a final gasp and groan. Holt is coming, too, and Tom watches, intrigued, even as he pulls his cock from Holt’s ass. He discards the condom into the waste bucket immediately; he will have to get rid of it before the morning, he thinks.

Tom pulls his pants back on and is fastening his belt when Holt turns around. While they were fucking, the letter from the ambassador was pushed from where it was covering Holt’s file. Holt picks it up and looks at it.

“That’s not a bad picture, actually. Where did you get it?”

“Sergeant Collins gave it to me.”

“Ah, Leah,” Holt says. Tom doesn’t like the intimacy the first name carries with it. “Do you want me to kill her?” Again, Holt sounds casual, as if he is making a grocery list.

“No!” The word comes out stronger than Tom had intended. He can see how it’s another piece for Holt’s puzzle and turns around, afraid to show him even more. Holt knows too much already, although Tom doesn’t understand what he intends to do with that knowledge.

“Why?” he asks, walking over to the cabinet to pour himself a glass of water. He doesn’t look at Holt but he can hear him getting dressed as well, zipping up his pants, straightening his clothes.

“I’m curious,” Holt replies, and Tom knows that’s the only answer he’s going to get that night. He nods; he understands curiosity. He turns back to face him, Holt is already on his way out but stops at the door.

“You have my number if you need anything.” Holt smirks at him one last time before he’s gone. Tom finishes his drink and goes to bed after flushing the used condom down the toilet.

The dreams that night are even more vivid, but this time, he doesn’t come.

FIC: Something between, Cordelia/Tara, NC-17

2006-01-15T15:58:02Z

Title: Something between
Rating NC-17
Pairing: Cordelia/Tara
Word Count: 1,624
Disclaimer: Oh how I wish Tara was mine. But she and Cordelia, as well as all other characters and situations from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Fox. I'm not making any money with this.
Notes: This is for carawj. ♥

Tara's not the first woman she's been with - everyone experimented at high school, after all, and when it comes to that sort of expectations, Cordelia's the last to let anyone down.

Having sex with Tara is different, of course, totally different to the drunken fumbling on couches Cordelia's used to, fumbling that more often than not only led to a hickey low enough you could hide it from your parents and only in one case to something you could call an orgasm.

Having sex with Tara means kissing her, kissing her, fully sober, feeling a little too comfortable after an evening spent watching old movies together and not caring about how much ice cream was in the tub when they started eating it.

It was half empty, right? Cordelia asks doubtfully and Tara laughs, Almost full. She licks the corner of her mouth and drops the spoon into the now definitely empty box before letting herself fall back against the cushions. Cordelia watches her, and it's so good to be with someone who understands the whole fucked-upness of the mess that is her life, has become Cordelia's life since she's come to LA, since Buffy fucking Summers has come to Sunnydale. Tara understands, but she's not really part of it, can't really be part of it because half of her is still in Sunnydale whereas Cordelia has moved on, Wesley has moved on, Angel has – okay, Angel never moves on, but he has Connor now, so.

And suddenly Cordelia wants to hold on to her, wants to have something in her life that isn't complicated and messed up, and okay, maybe Tara really is the wrong person for that, but she's beautiful, Cordelia realizes. She's beautiful and soft and warm and her lips – Cordelia leans over to kiss her, just capture that beauty, that warmth, that goodness that is Tara, and instead of pulling away or at least just return the could-have-been chaste kiss Cordelia has given her, Tara opens her mouth and pushes her tongue between Cordelia's lips. She isn't forceful or anything not-Tara - and yeah, that totally has become an adjective in the three weeks she's lived here; Cordelia's woken up to Tara smells and Tara sounds and come home to Tara food and movies and ice cream and tonight, apparently kisses. She isn't forceful or anything not-Tara, but she's determined and she pulls Cordelia with her, really determined and gentle at the same time. The couch isn't maybe the best spot in her appartment to make out on, but Tara doesn't complain so Cordelia figures she doesn't mind and keeps kissing Tara. And it's not like she cares or anything, she tells herself, and would tell Dennis, and that reminds her.

She pulls away for a moment and says something like, Dennis, fuck off now if you haven't, and Tara giggles.

Cordelia's half-leaning over her, her right leg between Tara's, her left leg bent next to Tara's right. Tara's gaze is soft, Tara's touch is soft as she reaches out and cups Cordelia's cheek, softly and slowly and gently and Cordelia closes her eyes. And then Tara pulls her down again, hand on her neck, tangled in her hair, fingers caressing her scalp, thumb rubbing over the skin of her neck. They're kissing again, slow and soft and deep and she's sort of propped on her hands and elbows and it isn't that comfortable until she runs her hand down Tara's side, to where her shirt ends and her pants begin. Tara's breath hitches and Cordelia almost jerks her hand away. She isn't sure whether she's supposed – allowed to touch Tara's bare skin just yet, so instead she lets her hand travel back up, over Tara's stomach, dragging the fabric of her shirt with her just a little bit. She stops just below Tara's breast, but that's when Tara bites her, catches her lip with her teeth and pulls, and Cordelia's not pissed off at all, just really turned on. Feeling brave, she cups Tara's breast with her hand, and wow, she's not the only one who's really turned on. Tara moans and Cordelia flicks her thumb over Tara's nipple, feeling it harden under her bra. This time, Tara sighs and Cordelia shifts, pressing her hip against Tara's almost unconsciously.

Cordelia wants to keep kissing Tara, but she wants to feel her even more, and she pulls away, kissing down Tara's neck to her collarbone. Cordelia knows her scent from the pillow they share, because her bed is big enough for two and the couch too uncomfortable and Cordelia's just tired of sleeping alone. She knows Tara's scent, but now she can taste her and she does, breathing in as she nibbles at her skin before dragging her lips downward, leaving a trail of kisses on her skin as she slides along Tara's body, mouthing her through the shirt, gently biting her nipple. And Tara arches up against her, her hands still buried in Cordelia's hair, and she whispers her name, and Cordelia looks up at her and wow. She isn't sure what she sees, how to call it, it's lust and affection and lust, and now Cordelia moans, and when Tara pulls her up she complies, kissing her eagerly as Tara's hands sneak under her shirt. Tara isn't as timid as she was and her hands feel wonderful on Cordelia's skin. She shivers and thrusts her tongue into Tara's mouth, writhing against her and suddenly there isn't enough room on the couch and Cordelia remembers.

Bed, she gasps in between kisses and Tara nods and they're off the couch, they're in the bedroom and the door is closed, and now it really isn't like high school anymore. They're standing in front of Cordelia's bed, but Cordelia isn't scared, isn't afraid, and her hands aren't shaking, and she pulls on Tara's shirt to show her. Tara doesn't ask her whether she's okay with this but instead lifts her arms to help her. Opening a bra on someone else is a little tricky, even without shaking hands, but after a moment Cordelia manages, and then Tara is a lot more naked than she is. Tara kisses her, more slowly again, and Cordelia really is all right with this, and it helps knowing this is not just a thing, not just a quick fuck even though it will be a one time thing. Tara's going back home soon, one day, two days tops, but it's all right, it's great, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because this matters, and Cordelia strips, undresses for Tara and she's got her, she's got her.

They fall onto the bed, still kissing again, and then Tara rolls her so she's on top of her and she smiles at Cordelia and she's never seen that sort of smile on anyone. They're both naked except for their panties, and there's just so much skin, so soft, so hot. Tara is touching her everywhere, her hands sliding over Cordelia, slow and teasing and hot, so hot. Cordelia moans loudly, and this more than anything else makes it real, well this and Tara's lips on her skin, Tara's tongue licking her way to Cordelia's breasts, teasing her just so. Cordelia lifts her head to watch her, lets her head fall back cause she can't, and Tara sucks on her nipple while her left hand is cupping her other breast and her other hand, her other hand… Tara's other hand is on her hip, sliding down over her thigh, down to her knee, and Cordelia's legs fall apart as Tara's hand trails upwards again, fingers brushing over the skin of her inner thigh, upwards, upwards. And Tara isn't a tease and Cordelia loves her, loves her, loves her as she presses her hand against her cunt, and she's so wet Tara must feel it through the cloth and she does and she's smiling again, Cordelia can feel it. But she doesn't mind, just lifts her hip and Tara's mouth leaves her breast as Tara shifts and hooks her fingers into Cordelia's panties and pulls them down and over her ankles. Cordelia is spread before her, and wow, Tara licks her lips and god, god, god, fuck, Cordelia gasps as Tara – Tara buries her face between Cordelia's legs and licks her, her tongue flicking over her clit and fuck, Cordelia bucks up and against her and her hands reach out for something and her right hand finds Tara's left and Tara threads their fingers together, grounding her as she feels the fingers of Tara's other hand teasing her more open still, and then two of her fingers are thrusting inside her, and Cordelia clings to her, clings to her as fast as she can, just clings to her as she comes.

Tara kisses her clit before pulling away, pulling out and Cordelia tugs at her hand or tries to. She's shivering and out of breath and she needs to kiss Tara, now, and Tara is here. Cordelia can taste herself as she kisses her and it's so hot; she licks Tara's lips and lets go of Tara's hand, she's got her. Tara helps her getting her panties off and now Cordelia's fingers are between Tara's legs, touching her warmth, her wetness, rubbing her clit. Tara is close already, Tara gasps and moans her name, moans her name, moans now, and faster, and yes right there, yes, god, fuck! She's beautiful when she comes, all wide and open for her and Cordelia holds her tight.

They don't let go of each other, they lie on their sides and Tara brushes Cordelia's hair out of her face. They don't talk, just smile, and this isn't about other people, this is about them.

FIC: Holding out for a hero, Carson/Rodney, PG

2005-10-30T19:25:33Z

Title: Holding out for a hero
Pairing: Carson/Rodney (-ish)
Rating: PG for language
Word Count: 7,709
Summary: Carson, Rodney and Major Lorne are captured by the bad guys.
Notes: Written for bee46 for the Carson Beckett requestathon. She requested:

Preferred Partner (or group):Beckett/McKay
Secondary Partner (or group):Beckett/Ford or Beckett/Sheppard
Genre (dark, humour, etc): Dark is good, just as long as there is a happy ending, I'm a sucker for those. PWP is good, and humour too.
Two prompts (single words): rain, flying

Huge thanks go to red_moon_ for the encouragement, handholding and last-minute beta. soupytwist did an amazing beta job with the first part. All remaining mistakes are mine.

~*~*~

“We’re going to die in here,” Rodney stated glumly, and Carson found he couldn’t disagree with him anymore. Instead, he checked Major Lorne’s vitals for the sixth time that hour. Once the Major woke up, he told himself again, once he was awake they’d figure out a way to escape.

Lorne hadn’t woken up once since they had been captured three days ago.

~*~*~

It had been a harmless recon mission on a harmless planet. About an hour after they’d arrived it had started raining heavily, but as the Major pointed out to Rodney, a little rain had never hurt anyone. Carson supposed he was technically right, but shortly afterwards Rodney had slipped in the mud and broken his leg. So they had returned to the ‘jumper, with the Major and Carson each supporting Rodney, whose satisfaction at having been right had almost seemed to make up for his pain. He had still demanded painkillers once they’d arrived, and Lorne had readily agreed with him, looking at Carson with an expression that said, “Yes, yes, please sedate him already.”

Two hours later, Rodney was lying on the bench in the back of the ‘jumper, dozing happily. Carson finished setting his leg provisionally and, once the drugs set in, left Rodney to himself to join Major Lorne in waiting for Colonel Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla, who had formed the other recon team. Lorne was sitting in the pilot seat and just kept staring out the front, every once in a while checking for lifesigns. Carson was about to try and make an attempt at small talk when the radio went on.

“Major Lorne?” Colonel Sheppard’s voice was barely audible. Carson tried to tell whether it was the rain or radio noise, but failed. “We have a problem. We came across a crater that looked like it had been left behind by a Wraith ship and went down to investigate, but with all the rain, the slopes kinda got washed down and now we can’t get back up. You’ll have to come and get us out.”

“Understood,” Lorne replied. “Where exactly are you, sir?”

“About five miles south of you. Trust me, you won’t be able to miss us.”

“We’re on our way.” The Major turned to Carson. “You think McKay’s going to be all right back there?”

Carson nodded. “He should be, as long as the inertial dampeners are working.”

“Okay then, let’s get going.” Lorne powered up the jumper and they took off. The rain had gotten stronger; if it hadn’t been for the map they would have been flying blind. As it was, though, they found the crater easily enough. The Colonel had been right; it was hard to miss, even in this weather. Whatever had been there before must have been huge. Carson shuddered. They had made sure there weren’t any Wraith on the planet before going through the ‘gate, but he couldn’t wait to get back to Atlantis. They were almost there when Carson noticed Major Lorne’s frown.

“What is it?” he asked, worried.

“I’m picking up lifesigns, and it can’t be the Colonel and the others.”

“I thought this planet was uninhabitated?”

“Yeah, so did I,” Lorne said with a grim nod. “We better make this quick.” The ‘jumper accelerated, course still set to the crater, when they were suddenly shoved sideways. Carson clung to his chair.

“What was that?”

“Whoever’s down there obviously doesn’t like us. Hold on. You too, McKay!” Lorne called over his shoulder. Rodney was gripping the edge of the bench with both hands, looking only half-awake but like he was doing all right. The ‘jumper veered to the left as Lorne tried to evade another explosion.

Carson told himself they would be fine, as always, get away just so, but then they were hit and everything pretty much went to hell. Rodney yelped in pain but didn’t complain, which was enough to make Carson try and get up to check on him, but Lorne stopped him. “You stay in your seat. Go on,” he handed him the controls, “just get us the fuck out of here.”

Carson took hold of the controls almost automatically. He felt a familiar panic well up inside him, but he had to do this, now and quick, only of course he wasn’t fast enough and they were hit again and then the controls stopped reacting altogether. They were going down, rushing through the rain, and there was the too loud thump of Major Lorne’s head against the wall, there was Rodney calling his name, then brightness as another explosion hit, then darkness.

When he woke up they were in an artificially lit room with no windows. There were four cots on the wall: one was occupied by Major Lorne, who was unconscious and who looked far too pale even in the bright light. Rodney, on the other hand, was awake in the cot right next to Carson’s, sitting up and staring blankly into space, his face twisted in a way that made Carson wonder for an instant where his doctor was, when his painkillers had so obviously run out.
When he noticed Carson move, his expression changed from pained to worried. “Carson!” He carefully shifted and edged over in Carson’s direction. “Are you all right?”

His head hurt and he probably had a concussion. “I’ll be fine. Where are we?” Carson struggled to sit up and had to bite back a groan.

Rodney’s mouth became a thin line. “In a Genii holding cell. They were the ones who shot us down.”

“The Genii? What do they want this time?”

“They haven’t bothered to tell me yet. I figure they’ll try and blackmail Elizabeth for some of our weapons supply. They already have the puddlejumper.”

Carson frowned. “How –“

“I have no idea. They couldn’t have flown it, though. It’s completely broken, and even if it wasn’t, none of them has the gene. They must have found another way to get it through the ‘gate.”

“How long have we been here?” Carson asked. “And how long has he been like this?” He nodded at Lorne.

“I’m not sure, but my guess is about twelve hours. At least. For both questions.”

“He hasn’t woken up once?” Carson got up and walked over to Lorne’s cot.

“No.” Rodney watched as he checked Lorne’s breathing and pulse before pulling up his eyelids. Reassured there wasn’t any severe brain injury, Carson continued to look for the wound and winced when he found it.

“How bad is it?” Rodney asked.

“I can’t be sure, but I’ll definitely have to clean this wound. Has anyone come by to talk to us yet?”

“No one important, just a couple of ordinary thugs,” Rodney said dismissively. “They just told me to get comfortable and refused to give me any drugs. My leg is hurting, by the way.”

”I’m sorry, Rodney.” Carson went over to Rodney. “Let me take a look at it.”

“There’s nothing to see, it just hurts.” At Carson’s pointed look, he sighed and unfastened his trousers. With Carson’s help, he pulled them down. Carson didn’t even have to feel for the break to know he’d have to reset the bone. When he told Rodney, he refused.

“It can wait until we’re back on Atlantis. There’s no way I’m letting you do this without being heavily sedated. You’re confusing me with Ronon. Must be all the dirt, I really wish they’d let us clean up.”

“But we don’t know when –“ Carson started. Rodney interrupted him.

“Sheppard will have us out of here in a couple of hours. You know how he is, there’s no way he can resist playing the hero, especially if he gets to fight the Genii.”

Carson supposed Rodney had a point, and even if the Colonel wasn’t coming, the Major would wake up sooner or later, and he’d know what to do.

~*~*~

After six hours, someone brought them food. Even as they opened the door, Carson could smell the lemon.

“With compliments from Commander Kolya,” the soldier told them, smirking in Rodney’s direction.

Rodney smiled thinly. “Yes, yes, very funny.”

Before Carson could ask the soldier for medical help for the Major, he was gone and had locked the door behind him. Rodney pulled a powerbar from his vest. Thankfully, the Genii had only taken their weapons.

“You have to hand it to him, it’s a creative form of torture,” Rodney said after taking his first bite. “Why aren’t you eating? You realize that if I die from hypoglemia in here, you’re the only one who can pass on my legacy to the world.”

~*~*~

Two hours later, Rodney needed to go to the bathroom. Carson refused to pound on the door for him, but it turned out that wouldn’t have been necessary anyway. Minutes after Rodney’s initial complaint, the door opened and the same soldier who had brought them their food entered, carrying a bucket.

“You have to be kidding me. Please, tell me you are kidding me,” Rodney said and Carson had to agree with him. But the soldier pointedly put the bucket in front of Rodney.

This time, Carson got up before he could leave. “Please, the colonel over there needs medical assistance. Could you –“

“He looks fine to me,” the soldier replied. “Asleep.” With that he was gone again, and Carson was left wondering how they ever even thought those people could become their allies.

He helped Rodney pee in the bucket before taking a turn himself and then put the bucket as far away from them as possible.

“What is taking them so long?” Rodney asked, and Carson wondered when he had become more pessimistic than Rodney.

~*~*~

There was no interruption for the next eight hours and they slept, taking turns without talking about it. The cots had to be hell for Rodney’s back, and Carson lay awake in the silence for over an hour before finally falling into an uneasy sleep. He dreamed about a giant chicken running through Atlantis, followed by Rodney shouting, “Don’t you dare put lemon on it!” at Colonel Sheppard, who was pelting it with lemons.

~*~*~

When the door opened for the third time, Carson expected to see their soldier again, but this time, another man entered, tall, dark, with scars on his face. Carson had never seen him, but this had to be Kolya. He looked at Rodney, whose expression was a mixture of fear and defiance.

“Doctor McKay. So good to see you again,” Kolya said jovially. “And you must be Doctor Beckett.” He turned to Carson.

“What do you want from us?” Rodney demanded.

“Why do you think we want anything? We’re happy enough that you have… chosen to be our guests for the time being.”

Rodney snorted. “Colonel Sheppard’s not here, so I’m sorry, but you will have to take your thinly veiled, not in the least amusing insults somewhere else.”

“I see. Well, as it turns out there is something you could help us with. Our scientists are having trouble with your ship.”

“Really.”

“You don’t sound surprised.” Kolya folded his arms in front of his chest.

“Surprised that your ‘scientists’” – Carson could actually hear the quotation marks – “are incapable of repairing advanced Ancient technology? Please.” Rodney rolled his eyes.

“Well? Are you going to cooperate?” Kolya asked him.

“Why should I bother? You’re going to kill us anyway.”

“Kill you? Doctor, what do you think of me? I won’t kill you, even I know you’re far too valuable.” He glanced at Lorne and then at Carson. “Your friends, however…” he trailed off.

Rodney looked panicked. “You can’t kill them! They – they have the gene. The puddlejumper will be useless to you if you can’t operate it!”

“Still, I wonder how much of them exactly we need. Maybe Doctor Beckett and I should go and try and find out?”

Rodney paled. “All right, all right, you’ve made your point, I’ll do it. I’ll need some sort of crutch though, and Carson needs his medical equipment to take care of the Major. And I want some real food and the chance to use a decent bathroom.”

“Very well,” Kolya agreed. “Give me a few minutes.” He turned around and left them to themselves.

“Thank you,” Carson said. Rodney waved him off.

“Just make sure to mention it to the others. It’s a good thing they have no idea what gene therapy is about.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Do you have a better plan? By fixing the ‘jumper I can at least buy us some time. They won’t kill us as long as we’re useful, and at some point the others will figure out a way to get to us.” Rodney still sounded a lot more convinced than Carson felt. Maybe it was because he was used to Sheppard saving his life, or maybe Carson simply hadn’t enough offworld experience.

They sat together in silence until Kolya returned, followed by another soldier carrying Carson’s medical kit. Kolya left with Rodney hobbling after him and Carson got to work.

~*~*~

Carson cleaned up Lorne’s headwound as best as he could and bandaged it. They had taken everything that was a potential weapon from his kit, but what left sufficed well enough. Once he was done, he looked for some painkillers for Rodney, but the Genii had taken them, too. All that was left for him to do was to sit around and wait, for Lorne to wake up, for Rodney to return, for Sheppard to rescue them.

Carson didn’t like waiting.

~*~*~

Carson didn’t like waiting because it gave him too much time to think. He didn’t want to think about Rodney having to repair a puddlejumper for the Genii when by all means he should be in Carson’s infirmary complaining loudly about the lack of care he was receiving even though he was already half on his way to recuperation. He didn’t want to think about Major Lorne, who still hadn’t even stirred and who needed proper medical attention yesterday rather than tomorrow or whenever they would be able to Atlantis. If ever. He didn’t want to think about his own concussion, or about what exactly the Genii would do with them when they – or rather, Rodney - stopped being useful.

At least Rodney had something to do, Carson thought, feeling slightly resentful. He wasn’t stuck in this damn room, left with nothing but his own thoughts and an incomplete medical kit. He idly started to go through the remaining contents – some bandages, gauze pads, tape, a half-empty bottle of antiseptic ointment, rubber gloves, a whole box of spatulas, sunscreen and a thermometer. Carson doubted even MacGyver could have done much with that sort of equipment. He supposed they could use the thermometer and try stabbing one of the soldiers in the eye, but the others would very probably shoot them before they’d even left the cell. Another option was to pretend one of them was a mummy – they had more than enough bandages for that, and it might confuse them long enough to set plan A in motion and find some cover. It was unlikely Rodney would go for any of them, and Carson couldn’t blame him: as escape plans went, his were crap.

He simply wasn’t a soldier. Rodney probably wished it was Colonel Sheppard who was stuck here with him. The two of them together always seemed to find a way to get out of trouble, but Carson couldn’t see himself and Rodney go anywhere any time soon. Especially not with an unconscious Major Lorne in tow.

He cursed and got up, irritated with himself. Those were exactly kind of thoughts he had wanted to avoid. After pacing through the cell for an hour, he sat back down on the spare cot and started building a small tower using the spatulas.

~*~*~

Five hours later he completed what he dubbed Hobbiton. He had foregone the tower after it had collapsed for the second time and decided to go for something more simple. It would have looked even more like the original had he been able to use some proper moss. He remembered building little model houses with his father when he was younger – his dad had given him a model railway set for his eighth birthday, and while Carson never had been particularly interested in the trains themselves, he soon learnt to appreciate the meticulousness that constructing fake trees, little benches and, once, a very tiny wastebasket involved. Whenever they ran out of material, he and his dad went out to gather plants and stones and acorns and sticks they could use. His father had taught him to only use twigs that had already fallen off the tree. He doubted any of the Genii had ever learned that lesson.

Carson checked his watch. He hoped Rodney was doing all right. He’d seemed very sure the Genii wouldn’t hurt him, but Carson knew what the scar on his arm looked like. Since he had used all the spatulas, he went over to Major Lorne to check up on him. Lorne was still very much unconscious, but had regained a little colour. His pupils were reacting normally to light, and his pulse had gotten stronger. Carson lifted the Major’s head and carefully poured some water down his throat. The Genii had brought the water along with the food, and luckily they had left it lemon-free. Technically what the Genii had added to their food hadn’t been lemon, but it was the Pegasus galaxy’s version of a citrus fruit and had smelled and tasted too much like lemon for Carson to declare it safe for Rodney’s consumption.

Once he was finished, Carson put the metal cup on the floor under the Major’s cot so Rodney wouldn’t trip over it. He laid down on his own bed and stared at the ceiling for a while. It was bare, a blank grey that wasn’t nearly as interesting as the ceiling in Atlantis. Carson closed his eyes and tried to picture his room. He only got as far as to the lamp on his bedside table that only lit up every other day. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep, using one arm to cover his eyes.

~*~*~

He was crudely shaken awake by a Genii soldier. Rodney was standing next to him, looking worried.

“Get up,” the soldier said even as he pulled Carson to his feet. Carson rubbed his eyes.

“What-“ he started, but the soldier was already pushing him out the door. He turned around to Rodney, who was being left behind in the cell.

“They want you to turn on the jumper,” Rodney called after him, and Carson’s spirit sank. This couldn’t be good.

And it wasn’t.

~*~*~

“Look, I told you, I’m really not good at this. I’m always the last person who gets asked to get anything to work. I’m sure Rodn – Dr McKay already told you this. I’m a medical doctor, not -“ Carson trailed off. He was sitting in the pilot chair of the ‘jumper and he’d thought, On, on, please, bloody ON at the damned thing for the last ten minutes. It hadn’t even blinked. Neither had Kolya, which didn’t make Carson feel any better.

Kolya raised his eyebrows. “He did mention it. However, weren’t you the one who flew the ship from the mainland to Atlantis during the storm?”

Carson paled. “Yes, but, you have to see it only works sometimes. I don’t really know how it works, we’re still –“

“Weren’t you also the one who discovered the – gene in the first place?” Kolya interrupted him.

“Genetics is still – I’m still – we’re not clear on how exactly Ancient technology reacts to people who have the gene, whether it is determined by psychological factors like stress or, or – fear –“ Carson felt like a rabbit caught in the headlight as Kolya stepped closer.

“I think you’re stalling, doctor. Either you are or McKay is. In any case, I’ll give you something to think about for the night.” He nodded at the soldier guarding the exit of the ‘jumper, a man who was too tall and too broadly built for Carson’s peace of mind.

When the first blow hit, all Carson could think was that he really hoped Rodney had a plan that beat eyestabbing mummies.

~*~*~

They dragged him back to the cell afterwards. Carson didn’t even try to fight back and just let himself sag onto his cot once they had arrived. Rodney’s eyes widened when he saw him, and he clumsily tried to get up from his bed to confront the soldiers.

“What did you do to him? I told you I couldn’t be sure I had fixed it! This - you need him if you ever want to fly the damned thing, hurting him was extremely stupid and also unnecessarily cru –“ Rodney’s chain of complaint was cut off when they closed the door.

“Right, that’s mature. Bullies,” he called after them. He slowly hobbled over to Carson, using the set of crutches the Genii had given him.

“Uh –“ he started and then just stared at Carson’s half-swollen eye and bleeding lip. Finally, Carson rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be fine, Rodney. I’ll just clean it up a little and cool it. Could you – never mind. You should sit down.” Carson got up and fetched his kit from the empty cot, as well as the bottle of water standing next to Lorne’s bed. He returned to his own cot and got out a couple of gauze pads, poured some of the ointment on them and started to dab at the corner of his mouth. He was surprised when Rodney sat down right next to him.

“Uh, can I help you with that?” he offered. Carson raised his eyebrows. “Just trying to help,” he added defensively. Carson put down the pad.

“What exactly did you do to the ‘jumper, Rodney?” he asked suspiciously.

“Nothing! I said that I tried to fix it!” Rodney avoided his eyes and then snatched the pad from Carson’s hand. He reached out to dab at the wound, but Carson pulled away.

“Stop it! You did something to it, didn’t you? That’s why it didn’t work, it wasn’t my fault.”

Rodney glared at him. “You stop it,” he hissed, nodding in the direction of the door.

Carson returned his glare but kept silent. He tried to get the pad back from Rodney, but Rodney wouldn’t let him.

“Keep still,” he told him gruffly as he leaned over to clean Carson’s wound. Carson obeyed, touched by Rodney’s concern despite himself. He knew it mostly stemmed from guilt, but it was nice nonetheless.

“What do you want to do about your eye?” Rodney asked once he was finished.

“A steak would be best, but I doubt the Genii would let me have one.” Carson smiled a little sourly. “I’ll just have to cool it as best as I can with a wet cloth.”

Rodney pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to him. Carson raised his eyebrows.

“It’s clean. Take it.”

Grinning, Carson grabbed the handkerchief. “You have to be careful, Rodney, or else the Genii will suspect something after all.”

“Very funny.” Rodney shifted until he was sitting with his back against the wall and his leg stretched out in front of him. Carson soaked the piece of cloth with water and put the wet handkerchief to his eye. It didn’t make much of a difference, but he supposed it was better than nothing. He leaned back against the wall as well and the two of them sat together in silence, their thighs and elbows touching lightly.

Five minutes later, Rodney asked quietly, “How’s he doing?”

Carson sighed. “He seems better, but he still hasn’t regained consciousness. There’s not much I can do for him here.”

Rodney nodded.

“Don’t you think the others should have been here by now?” Carson asked when Rodney didn’t say anything.

“They don’t know where we are.” Carson looked at him sharply, but Rodney was still staring in the space in front of him. “The Genii took a slight detour to make it almost impossible – well, a lot more time consuming – to trace us. They went to several other planets before coming to this one, so the data left in the crystals won’t be much use; at least not at first.”

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

“It depends on the number of ‘gates they went through. I’d say a week, at least. And that’s not counting the time it took for the others to get back to Atlantis.”

“So what you’re saying is, we’re on our own?” Carson’s voice sounded a little too high in his ears.

“No, Carson, what I’m saying is we’re screwed!” Rodney tried to get up but winced in pain and slumped back on the cot. “I’m trying to buy us more time, but if they’re already impatient enough to treat you like this, we’re dead within the week.” Rodney sounded resigned rather than panicked, which made Carson feel even worse.

“How did they even know we were on that planet?” he asked. “And how come we didn’t pick up their lifesigns?”

“They’ve been wanting to get their hands on a ‘jumper for a while now. Kolya said they’ve been following us. I swear, he’s one of those villains who talk too much; if we were in a James Bond movie, he’d already be dead and we’d both be having sex with a hot girl. Or well, one of us would. I would. You’d be Q or something.”

“I’d be Q?” Carson asked. “If anything, Radek would be Q. And there’s no way you’d be James Bond, either.”

“Yeah, you’re right, that’d be Sheppard.” Rodney sighed. “But anyway, their cunning plan was to get a ‘jumper, we’re just an added bonus. Which means ‘superfluous once we’ve served our purpose’. As I said, dead.”

“We’re not dead yet, Rodney.” Carson put his hand on Rodney’s arm. Rodney didn’t pull away, so he left it there.

~*~*~

“So who do you think is the best James Bond?” Rodney asked after a while.

Carson looked at him. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Right, right, Sean Connery, of course. No argument from me.” Rodney sounded disappointed.

“Good.” Carson yawned. He should go to sleep, but that would mean letting go off Rodney. So instead he closed his eyes and concentrated on the warmth coming from Rodney, the feel of his leg pressed against his own, his arm strong and very much alive.

~*~*~

Carson woke up when the door opened again. He had fallen asleep on Rodney’s shoulder, and now his neck hurt. Carson was surprised Rodney hadn’t woken him, but Rodney didn’t even complain.

This time, the food was lemon free. It was only bread and water, but it was food they both could eat.

“Hurry up,” the guard told Rodney, “Kolya wants you to work on the ship some more.”

“I won’t be much use to you if I pass out,” Rodney pointed out while biting off another big chunk of bread. He was chewing faster than usual, and once he was finished, Rodney reached for his crutches and got up. When Carson tried to help him, the guard stopped him.

“You stay where you are.”

“Right, because we’re both going to attack you with the crutches. It’s not like you don’t have a gun pointed at us.” Rodney rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s go, I don’t have all day.” He carefully hobbled out the door and the soldier followed him, leaving Carson behind once more.

~*~*~

After checking up on Major Lorne, Carson spent most of the day dozing. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, after all, and that way his bruises didn’t hurt as much. The Major still hadn’t shown any sign of consciousness. He probably had it best of all three of them, Carson thought. He supposed the Genii would kill him first and save Rodney for last, leaving himself in the middle. He idly wondered how they’d do it –whether they’d slowly beat him to death or whether they’d just shoot him, clean and simple. He’d definitely prefer the second option, Carson decided. Maybe he should tell them that, but it might give them ideas, so maybe not.

Being beaten to death hadn’t previously been on his list of possible ways to die in the Pegasus list. The list already had been far too long for Carson’s taste. Sometimes he wondered whether their trip through the ‘gate had been worth it. To be fair, the only difference between the Pegasus list and the Milky Way one seemed to be that on Earth the possibility of having your life sucked from you by evil aliens was pretty low, at least at the moment. Actually, their trip through the Stargate might have changed that, too.

Carson knew he’d just drive himself crazy with that sort of thinking, so instead he started listing the titles of the James Bond movies in his head. First alphabetically, then by date of release, then by his order of preference. That didn’t take much longer than an hour, though, and he was back to his first list, which wouldn’t do at all. He tried willing himself to fall asleep, but of course that only led to him being more awake than ever. Frustrated, Carson got up to pee. He used some of their drinking water to wash his hands and then picked up a piece of bread. He carefully removed the crust and used the soft bit to fashion two little people to live in Hobbiton. They ended up mostly resembling two footballs, or maybe two very small tribbles. Tribbles distinctly lacking fuzzi- and fluffiness.

Carson groaned. He was going crazy.

~*~*~

Finally, Rodney was returned to their cell. Even though that meant that Carson had to undergo another session that would probably end up in him getting beat up again, he was relieved. Relieved that Rodney was all right and that he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

When the guard ushered him outside, he obeyed. Kolya greeted him with a jaunty, “Let’s hope Dr McKay did a better job today,” and Carson once more sat down in the pilot seat.

This time, the lights inside the ‘jumper went on. The controls, however, remained dead, no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t even bother to explain and simply said, “It still isn’t working.”

Kolya looked at him with an inscrutable expression before turning to the guard. “Bring him back to the cell. And tell McKay that tomorrow is his last chance.”

~*~*~

“Tomorrow’s my last chance?” Rodney asked. “Wow. He really does sound like a bad Bond villain.”

“What are you going to do?” Carson picked up the tray with the remainder of the food and offered it to Rodney, who took the larger of the two pieces of bread.

“I’ll think of something.” Rodney was about to bite into the bread when he noticed the results of Carson’s ealier modelling. “What is that?”

“I was bored to death, Rodney,” Carson said defiantly.

“So you used our food to play with? And what’s that over there?” He pointed to the village Carson had constructed.

“That’s Hobbiton.”

“Hobbiton?” Rodney put down his slice of bread and grabbed for his crutches. “How can that be Hobbiton? Hobbits don’t live in houses.” He went over to the other bed to look at the model, but Carson got there first and stopped him.

“It’s not like I had that much to work with.”

“Let me have a look.” Carson shook his head. “Come on, Carson, I won’t do anything, and do you have anything better to do?”

“Fine. But you’re not going to destroy it.”

“I won’t.” When Carson stepped aside, Rodney added, “But maybe I can improve it.”

He sat down on the bed carefully, and even though one of the houses wobbled dangerously, it didn’t collapse.

“Hm. Not bad.” Rodney eyed Carson’s handiwork closely. “Those all the spatulas you had?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have anything else we could use?”

Carson went to get his kit and sat down on the floor in front of the cot. “Not really.” He showed it to Rodney, whose eyes lit up when he noticed the tape.

“We can use that instead of glue! Um.” He looked at Carson. “If you let me, I’ll make you a bridge and maybe a mill.”

“Will it have a turnable wheel?” Carson asked.

Rodney huffed as he knocked over the houses. “Of course it will.”

~*~*~

One hour later, the wheel was almost finished. In the beginning, Rodney had given Carson instructions on how exactly to shorten the pieces, but he soon realized Carson knew what he had to do, so instead they discussed the merits and shortcomings of the movie version.

“Jackson shouldn’t have moved Sam out of Bag End,” Carson said.

“Please, the whole ending was a disappointment. Not to mention that you couldn’t be sure whether what was the ending, either. It just went on and on and on.” Rodney tore off a bit of a bandage and used it to wrap it around the skeleton of the wheel. He had constructed the inner circle – well, it did look more like a square with – by taping together four smallish pieces of wood. He had then added eight spokes of different lengths. The wheel was maybe a little too big for the rest of the village, but it was a wheel, and it would be turning. Wobbly.

“I did like the scene at the Grey Havens, though.” Carson had started working on the bridge. It was maybe a little too narrow, but they had to be resourceful.

“You would,” Rodney agreed.

They continued to work in silence until they had no spatulas left. The village had only two houses now, but a mill and a bridge, and it wasn’t like a lack of living space would be a problem.

Rodney finished eating his bread, and then put the model down on the floor to make room for Carson. This time Rodney was the one to put his hand on Carson’s arm.

~*~*~

Neither of them could sleep that night. Every so often, Carson got up to check Lorne’s vitals. The Major’s condition was unchanged.

“We’re going to die in here,” Rodney finally stated glumly. “Sheppard isn’t coming. Or if he is, he’ll be too late.”

“We could always try and overwhelm the guard,” Carson said and returned to the cot.

“What, so they kill us even faster?” Rodney snapped. “We don’t even have a weapon. Except – wait.” He lowered his voice. “We have the ‘jumper!”

“What do you mean?” Carson asked.

“You know I wired it so it wouldn’t respond to you,” Rodney whispered excitedly. “I can undo that and get it to work.”

“So that’s what you did!” Carson whispered back. “You do realize the Genii aren’t just going to let us leave, though.”

“Of course they won’t. As you said, we’ll have to overwhelm them.” Rodney thought for a moment. “What we need is a distraction.”

“What kind of distraction?”

“Shut up and let me think.” Rodney frowned. “Okay, first we’ll have to figure out a way to get both of us into the hangar. That shouldn’t be too hard, I’ll just say I need you to check something and no, I can’t leave, I have to adjust the controls which I can only you while you there, you know how it is. Anyway, I’ll generate an overload so when you power up the lights they’ll explode.”

“Won’t we need the lights afterwards?” Carson interrupted him. “And what about the Major?”

“The emergency lights should be enough. And I’ll get to him, don’t worry. All you have to do then is shut the hatch of the ‘jumper, overwhelm the guards, get their guns and threaten Kolya so we can get them to give us the Major.”

Carson stared at him. “That plan is insane,” he hissed. “We’re going to get killed!”

“I know it’s insane! That’s why I didn’t think about it before. But it’s that or getting killed without at least trying to escape. And you were the one who suggested overpowering the guards!”

“I didn’t! It was a joke!” Carson rubbed his eyes with one hand. “We do that, we really are going to get killed.”

“It’s not like we have much of a choice,” Rodney pointed out. “And the explosion might buy us enough time. So far there were never more than two guards in the ‘jumper with me, not counting Kolya. If you close the door quickly enough, all we have to worry about is the three of them, and we have the element of surprise on our side.” He sighed. “I know it’s insane, but unless you have a better plan, it’s all we’ve got.”

Carson remembered the thermometer and the mummy and decided that Rodney was right. Of course.

~*~*~

When the Genii came the next morning, Carson watched them worriedly. They had discussed their plans as quietly as they could, so they shouldn’t have been able to overhear anything, but you never knew. They brought them food and water again, and once more the soldier waited for Rodney to finish before leaving with him.

This time, Carson didn’t get bored. He took care of the Major one last time, before lying down and going through their plan once more. He knew what he had to do, but it all depended an awful lot on sheer luck. Then again, they had had precious little so far, so maybe they’d finally catch a break.

He dozed off at some point and woke up when he heard steps outside. It didn’t sound like Rodney was with whoever was coming. Carson hoped that was a good sign.

The soldier told Carson to follow him, and when he arrived at the hangar Rodney was audibly still there inside the ‘jumper. “I told you I can only adjust the controls with Carson in the pilot chair. Anything else would just be a waste of time.”

Before entering the ‘jumper, Carson took a furtive look around. He counted nine soldiers and what looked like five scientists outside the ‘jumper. According to Rodney, the hangar was built just outside a number of connected underground caves which contained both several labs and a set of holding cells. They should be able to escape through the roof even if they didn’t found a way to open it. Rodney had seemed very eager to blow things up, and Carson couldn’t blame him.

Inside the ‘jumper, Kolya was waiting for him along with one other guard. Carson let out a breath of relief.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, willing himself not to sound too nervous. Even if he did, Kolya didn’t seem to notice and pointed towards the pilot chair.

“Please, Doctor Beckett, take a seat. Dr McKay says he can’t do without you.”

“That’s nice to hear.” He glanced at Rodney who was leaning against the wall closest to the soldier who had fetched Carson. Rodney nodded.

“Just try to power it up,” he told him and Carson closed his eyes and did just that.

There was a loud bang and a very bright light before everything inside the jumper went dark. Carson activated the rear hatch as well as the protective shield and leapt up from his chair, tackling the soldier behind him. From the sound of it, Rodney had already done the same with the second guard. Suddenly, a gun went off from Kolya’s direction. He was shooting blindly in their direction and Carson ducked. He had managed to knock down his soldier, and had wrestled his gun from his grip, but he still couldn’t see anything and the guard was still struggling. With an apologetic expression the soldier couldn’t see, Carson used the gun to hit him over the head. He found the oof that was following disturbingly satisfying, as well as the fact he stopped moving. Well, it wasn’t like he had a choice. He got up and turned around just as the emergency lights were on.

Rodney and Carson were now both facing Kolya, who was pointing a gun at Carson. Outside, the soldiers were firing at the ‘jumper with no real effect.

“I’m impressed, McKay. Now, drop your weapon and you’ll at least get to say goodbye to your friend before I shoot them.”

Rodney didn’t say anything. Carson couldn’t stop looking at Kolya and his gun, but before he could tell Rodney to just drop the gun in the irrational hope that maybe they could persuade him to let them go, Rodney fired.

Kolya screamed and dropped his gun, clutching his arm.

Carson turned to Rodney, shocked. Rodney’s face was pale and he was leaning on the back of the pilot chair. He was still pointing the gun at Kolya.

“What next? Oh yes, radio. Carson?”

Carson leaned over the guard he’d knocked unconscious and picked up his radio to hand to Rodney. As Rodney took it he noticed that both their hands were shaking.

“All right, listen up everybody,” Rodney called into the radio. “You can stop firing now, it’s not going to do you any good.” He waited until the shooting had ceased.

“Great. Now, we have your Commander and two of your comrades, so you better do what Kolya tells you or they’re dead.”

He threw the radio at Kolya. “Tell them to get us Major Lorne.” When Kolya didn’t obey, he waved his gun. “I’ll shoot you!”

Kolya stared at him, but finally activated the radio. “Get the other prisoner to the hangar.”

“Tell them to be careful,” Carson added.

“Make sure you don’t harm him.” Kolya’s voice was full of sarcasm.

“Thank you. Um, Carson, maybe we should get the other two near the door? Just so they’re out the way? Oh, um, could you maybe first pick up the other two guns?”

Carson nodded. “Aye.” He handed Rodney the one he’d taken from the soldier and then picked up Kolya’s. He then went on to move the two guards to the back of the ‘jumper. They were both still completely out of it.

“Let’s hope they don’t take too long.” Rodney kept his gaze fixated on Kolya, whose right arm was bleeding. Once Carson was finished, he joined Rodney in the front. None of them said anything until the radio went.

“Answer it,” Rodney told Kolya.

“Yes?” Kolya asked.

“We have him,” a voice came through the radio. “What do we do now?”

“Carson, activate the life signs detector.” He waited until Carson had done so. “Thank you. Now, tell them to carry the Major to the back of the ‘jumper. And then – oh, you know what, just give me back the radio.” He reached out his left hand and snapped with his fingers, his weight still on his good foot. Kolya’s gaze darted to the hand that was holding the gun, but Rodney shook his head. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not the only one who has a gun. Now, the radio please.”

Kolya obeyed and Rodney smiled. “Okay, hello. Get the Major to the back of the ‘jumper, please. Again, carefully. Carson, what’s happening?”

“They’re moving him,” Carson said. “Okay, he’s there.”

“Great, now, everybody please leave the hangar and get back to your caves. Remember, we can see you.”

Carson watched as the Genii left. He could still see Lorne’s life sign at the ‘jumper’s hatch.

“They’re gone.” Carson turned to Rodney. “Do you want me to get him now?”

“Yes. Do you think you can get him inside on your own?” Rodney asked.

“Aye, don’t worry.” Carson activated the rear hatch. It slid open, revealing the empty hangar. Major Lorne was lying on a stretcher. That should make things easier, Carson thought. He took a few steps outside the ‘jumper to make sure everyone had left. Then he pushed the Major inside as quickly as possible, before carefully lifting him off and onto one of the sidebenches.

He pushed the stretcher back outside before dragging out the two soldiers as well. One of them had been among the soldiers who had hit him, so he didn’t really care when he caused him to bump his head by accident. Three minutes later, Carson had gotten them outside and returned to Rodney.

“Done,” he said. Rodney was still looking at Kolya. He finally seemed to come to a decision and waved his gun.

“Go.”

Kolya left, walking backwards, his eyes never leaving Rodney’s. Once he was outside, Carson closed the rear hatch and sat down in the pilot seat. Rodney let himself fall in the chair next to him. “Let’s go home,” he said.

“You’re sure this is going to work?” Carson asked as he took a hold of the controls.

“It’s not like I could test it with the Genii standing by.” At Carson’s glare, he held up his hands. “It should be fine, really.”

On, Carson thought once more, and this time it worked. He grinned in relief as the puddlejumper hummed to life and lifted off the floor.

“Do you still want to blow up the roof?” Carson turned to Rodney who looked at him as if he was insane.

“You have to ask?”

~*~*~

They were flying directly towards the ‘gate when Rodney turned to Carson. He was grinning broadly, and it was just like all the other times when they’d barely escaped death.

“We did it,” Rodney said. “We actually did it!”

“I can’t believe your plan worked.” Carson shook his head, but grinned back at him, giddy with relief.

“What do you mean, of course my plan worked,” Rodney protested.

Carson laughed and kissed him.

Maybe it was because they just had almost died, maybe it was because they’d fought soldiers and built villages together, or maybe it had simply taken Carson until now to gather up the courage.

None of that mattered now. They were on their way back home, and Rodney was kissing him back.

FIC: Trying to keep warm, Carson/Rodney, PG-13

2005-10-30T16:46:29Z

Title: Trying to keep warm
Author: ladydewinter
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Carson/Rodney
Rating: Teen for language
Summary: After his conversation with John, Rodney returns to his quarters and finds Carson waiting for him.
Notes: Spoilers for Trinity. Many many thanks go to red_moon_ for the handholding and encouragement, and to jimaine42 and cerri44 for the beta. Title taken from Matt Nathanson's Weight of it all.

When Rodney got back to his quarters, he found Carson sitting at his desk, laptop in front of him. Rodney noticed he had taken off his shoes, which was Carson’s way of saying he wouldn’t leave no matter what Rodney said or did.

Rodney was about to turn around and escape to his lab when Carson looked up at him. He looked as tired as Rodney felt.

“I-um I have to get back to the lab, get my notes, er, laptop, I’ll be right back,” Rodney gestured in the direction of somewhere over his shoulders, avoiding Carson’s eyes.

”Radek stopped by with your things earlier,” Carson said, pointing to the bed.

He nodded, gave a resigned sigh and took one more step into the room. The door closed with its usual whooshing sound as Rodney went over to his bed to pick up his laptop and notepad. For a moment, he debated booting it up, but decided against it. Instead he put them both on the empty space on his desk next to Carson’s laptop and took off his jacket, letting it simply fall onto the floor. Carson was watching him the whole time, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m going to bed.” In an acknowledgement of Carson’s presence, he sat down and unlaced his boots before toeing them off. “You coming?”

“In a minute. I have to finish this first.” Carson turned his attention back to his reports.

“Alright.” Rodney let himself fall face first onto the mattress and closed his eyes. He didn’t bother with the sheets; it was warm enough to sleep without them, really, and anyway, he was still wearing most of his clothes. He listened to Carson typing carefully, not nearly as fast as he himself did. He was glad for the sound; it helped him focus on Carson’s presence and kept him from thinking too much. Considering he wasn’t as good at that as he’d believed he was, that was probably a good thing, he concluded bitterly.

Finally, Carson was finished and closed the laptop. Rodney didn’t move; he could hear Carson’s sigh as he bent down to pick up Rodney’s jacket as well as the boots he had just left lying in front of the bed. It didn’t take long for Carson to get undressed; unlike Rodney, though, he brushed his teeth before going to bed, using the toothbrush he had left on top of Rodney’s sink after they had returned with the Daedalus. “Now that we can get more supplies, I can afford to have two,” he had explained and Rodney hadn’t objected, slightly distracted by the bottle of moisturizer Carson had also brought along with him.

Then Carson sat down on the bed and Rodney shifted, turning around to curl up on his side, away from him. Carson settled down behind him and, after a moment, wrapped his arm around Rodney, pulling him close. Rodney pressed his lips together as Carson put his chin on his shoulder and hooked his leg over his own. As usual, Carson wasn’t wearing anything except his boxers and under ordinary circumstances, neither would he, but as it was, Rodney was glad for his clothes. Still, he didn’t resist, and that seemed good enough for Carson. They remained silent for a while, Carson’s hand warm and heavy on his stomach, Carson’s breath hot against his skin. Then Carson’s other hand sneaked around to smooth back Rodney’s hair and he braced himself.

“How did it go?”

Rodney put his hand on Carson’s arm and thought about pretending to be asleep, but Carson knew him too well. So he just lay there, staring into the dark and waited.

“It’ll be just a matter of time,” Carson said after a while, gently. He moved his hand so he could interlace his fingers with Rodney’s, but Rodney pulled away.

“Till what? Until I fuck up again? Fuck,” Rodney cursed under his breath.

“Shh.” Carson’s fingers were slowly threading through Rodney’s hair, something Rodney found calming in spite of himself. “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.”

“I don’t.” Rodney turned his head, but even so, Carson didn’t let go. “I don’t – I can’t afford to. Which I think was demonstrated pretty well today.”

“He’ll forgive you.” Carson’s words were slightly muffled as he leaned in to place a kiss on Rodney’s temple. And another one.

“I wasn’t talking about–“

Once more, Carson’s hand reached for Rodney’s, and this time Rodney let him. “You were.”

He thought about how to deny it and instead said, “Elizabeth’s pretty pissed.”

“I heard.” Carson chuckled. “As did the rest of Atlantis. For a moment I thought she had forgotten to turn of her comm, but she really has that strong a voice.”

“It’s incredible.”

“Radek told me you had the next couple of days off.” Carson’s voice was a little too casual, and his other hand had sneaked down to Rodney’s neck and around to his front. Rodney shivered.

“You mean I’m grounded.” Elizabeth had only suggested he shouldn’t go to his lab for the next couple of days, of course, just like Radek had suggested a small break.

“If you have to put it like that.” The hand had now slipped under his shirt, and was dangerously, distractingly close to his left nipple.

“Carson, what are you doing?” Rodney sat up and turned so he could look down at Carson.

“Trying to take your mind off John.” Carson met his eyes as he slowly slid his hand down and up Rodney’s thigh. “Is it working?” Again his voice was too casual, and Rodney was grateful for the escape he was being offered.

“Of course it’s working, but that’s not the point.” He pushed Carson’s hand away decidedly and got up.

“Then what is the point, Rodney?” Carson sat up as the lights went on. He watched as Rodney started pacing about the room.

“I – this – today –,“ Rodney waved with his hands before letting his arms drop along with his shoulders. He looked at Carson. “Why are you here?”

“Don’t you want me to be here?” Carson asked and Rodney closed his eyes.

“Of course I want you to be here, I just didn’t – I didn’t expect you to be here. I’m not exactly the most popular man on Atlantis right now.”

“Rodney, you’ve never been the most popular man on Atlantis,” Carson pointed out. “And I’ve been always been here.”

“You have.” Rodney glanced at the toothbrush on his sink, looked over to the table where some of Carson’s voodoo journals were mixed with his more scientific ones. There was a second mug for instant coffee in the morning on his bedside table, and a couple of days ago he had found two pairs of Carson’s socks in his drawer.

“And I’m not going anywhere.”

Carson was still sitting in Rodney’s bed, waiting, watching him.

“I really fucked up this time,” Rodney said. He went back over to the bed and let Carson pull him into an embrace, burying his face in his shoulder as Carson wrapped his arms around him.

“You’ll do better next time. Didn’t you tell me you had made it a habit to never make the same mistake twice?” Rodney winced. “I trust you, Rodney. I trust you.”

Carson pulled away enough so he could kiss him, and Rodney kissed him back. After a while, the lights went out and they settled down, Carson still holding him. Rodney drifted off to sleep listening to Carson’s steady breathing, trying not to think about how he could earn John’s trust back.

FICLET: Appreciation, Peter/Super!Ford, R

2005-08-29T13:25:30Z

Title: Appreciation
Rating: R for crack!fic
Word Count: 341
Spoilers: All parts of The Siege
Disclaimer: Ford, Peter and the Wraith belong to MGM and Sci-Fi. The zombies are red_moon_'s and mine.
Notes: Written for red_moon_

"When did you stop caring?" Peter asked as he and Ford were sitting at dinner. Ford had just finished his plate of mushed something and pushed it away.

"What?" Ford said in the voice of someone who hadn't really been listening and who probably wouldn't change that behaviour any time soon.

"All I'm saying is that I don't feel like you appreciate what I'm doing here. I mean, you're out all day, killing Wraith or whatever it is you do, and I'm stranded here, taking care of -" he paused, unsure what to call them. "The kids," he concluded weakly. "You never bring me flowers anymore."

"I never brought you flowers," Ford replied. He got up and walked over to the screen, leaving Peter behind to clean up the table. He listened to the cluttering and muttering while he watched what Peter had called the kids. Thousands and hundreds of tiny little zombies were populating the central hall of the ship. It had been Peter's idea; he had had time enough to think about it while being captured on the wraith ship. It turned out they had beamed him out of the satellite just before the explosion, and he had spent the next months in stasis, waiting to be devoured. But then Ford had come and together they had taken over the ship; together, they had started to build their zombie army which would finally allow them to go home. How could the major resist something like this? This would show them all that Ford was on their side.

He couldn't have done it without Peter, though, so when the man came up to stand next to him, Ford wound his arm around his waist. "You're right," he whispered, before pressing a kiss to Peter's temple.
"I never bring you any flowers. But I think there's a better way to show my appreciation."

And soon all Peter could complain about was traumatizing the kids, but Ford really doubted zombies could be traumatized, even if they were watching their parents having sex.

FICLET: Quality Time, John/Rodney, PG

2005-08-29T13:20:11Z

Title: Quality Time
Rating: PG
Word Count: 227
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Sadly, John and Rodney aren't mine. Neither is Nutella. As a brand, that is. I do have one of those giant glasses.
Notes: Written for red_moon_.

"I didn't know they made them this big", John commented. He picked up a spoon and sat down next to Rodney, who clutched his giant glass of Nutella possessively.

"It's an anniversary thing," he explained, batting away John's hand. "And it's mine."

"It's our anniversary," John pointed out. That didn't get him anywhere, so when he spotted a bit of chocolate on Rodney's chin, he decided he should at least get something out of this. He leaned over and licked it off. "Mmmh. More."

Rolling his eyes, Rodney handed him his spoon. "Here. You have one minute, then you'll have to leave. You're interrupting our quality time."

"I liked the other way better," John complained, while trying to get as much of the Nutella on the spoon as possible. He didn't trust Rodney when it came to chocolate, and he deserved it as much as he did. After what never could have been a minute, Rodney snatched the spoon away from him.

"Hey!" he protested. But then it was Rodney's turn to lick chocolate off his skin, and either John was a lot sloppier when it came to eating or Rodney was a lot more thorough. He didn't care too much, though, because all that mattered was that now he and Rodney were spending quality time together, while the Nutella glass had a date with the spoon.

DRABBLE SERIES: Alex/Marissa, PG

2005-05-15T21:37:36Z

These were written for the stagesoflove challenge. Originally posted here, here, here, here and here.

Title: Coffee
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Alex/Marissa
Challenge Topic: #1 Attraction

Marissa wasn’t looking for a friend. Crashing on Alex’ couch was just another means of escape from her crazy, fucked-up life, only this one didn’t lead to a hangover.
She stumbled into Alex’ small kitchen, naked except for the T-shirt Alex had given her before they’d finally gone to bed. She started making coffee while rubbing her sore shoulders with one hand.
“Need any help with that?”
Alex was standing in the door, smiling, her hair still tousled from sleep. Marissa didn’t answer, but when Alex reached for the coffee she let out a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d held.

Title: School
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Alex/Marissa
Challenge topic: #2 Romance

Marissa had a lot of experience when it came to being a girlfriend; after all, she’d been one ever since fifth grade. Having a girlfriend was different though, different and new, and it earned her a couple of whispers and looks once she finally showed up back at school, holding Alex’ hand and kissing her goodbye.
But Marissa had learned not to care and she didn’t. She sat down at a table and got out her notes and one of Alex’ pens. When she noticed the handwriting on her notes she smiled.
Guess who’s thinking about you right now. _ _ _ _.

Title: Dance with me
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Alex/Marissa
Challenge topic: #3 Passion

“Dance with me.” Without waiting for an answer, Marissa grabbed Alex by the hand and pulled her with her onto the dancefloor. Alex was about to protest when Marissa’s hands slid down to her waist and she leaned in to kiss her.
They were all alone and there was no music, but that didn’t stop Marissa from swaying her hips. “Dance with me,” she murmured in between kisses, “Dance with me.” Their kisses became more urgent, Marissa’s hands slid further down and they were hot on her skin. Alex gasped and then she was the one pulling Marissa with her.

Title: Laundry
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Alex/Marissa
Challenge topic: #4 Intimacy

Marissa had forgotten to take out the trash, or to do the laundry, or maybe she hadn’t washed the dishes. In any case, Alex was pissed and currently shouting at her; and all Marissa could think was that she hadn’t left home for this.
Before she could get to the door, however, Alex was blocking her way.
“I won’t let you leave just like this.”
“Yeah? How are you planning on stopping me?”
Alex’ lips on hers, her arms around her waist helped remind her why she left, and later they made love while waiting for the laundry to finish.

Title: Home
Fandom: The O.C.
Pairing: Alex/Marissa
Challenge topic: #5 Commitment

A month passed, then three. Marissa had grown used to the looks people gave her and Alex, the quiet disapproval she got from Caleb, her mother’s fake acceptance. It was actually not that much different than what she had had to face when she was with Ryan, but now she was no longer living at home.
She hadn’t grown used to being an adult, to paying the rent and doing chores. It wasn’t easy, but every morning she woke up next to Alex, every night she came back to their home, she was reminded how much it was worth it.

FIC: A spring like summer, Minerva/Sybil, PG

2005-05-15T21:27:49Z

Title: A Spring Like Summer
Pairing: Minerva/Sybill
Written for the sapphic_hp challenge. Originally posted here.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,387
Summary: Minerva and Sybill's relationship is under some strain.
A/N: Thanks to carawj for the beta.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

She was half-sitting on the windowsill, gazing down at the students enjoying their Easter holidays. Spring felt like summer this year. The sun on her skin almost tempted her into changing, but then the sound of a soft voice from behind her made her turn her head.

“Minerva.” Sybill was wrapped in nothing but one of her scarfs, covering her breasts and her crotch only just so. She had tied back her blond hair in a loose ponytail and her cheeks were glowing. She wasn’t wearing her glasses; they were lying on the night stand next to Minerva’s.

She walked over to her. Minerva was feeling uncomfortable in her plain nightgown. She was about to get up, but then Sybill was there, pressing against her and all she could do was wrap her arms around Sybill’s waist and lean back into her.

“What were you doing?” Sybill murmured.

“I was just looking.” Minerva closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She loved Sybill’s scent; Sandalwood and tea leaves. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I missed you.”

Minerva didn’t reply for a moment. “What time is it?” she finally asked.

“Past noon, I think.”

Minerva let go of her. “Albus is waiting for me.” She starts looking for her robes.

Sybill watched her for a while before letting out a sigh. “You don’t ever have holidays, have you? I was hoping we could spend a little more time together over Easter.”

“This isn’t about school. There is a war going on.”

“A war.”

Minerva gave her a sharp look. “Yes, a war. Or what else would you want to call this? You Know Who is getting stronger every day. And only last week there were four attacks on Muggles that can be traced back to him. You’d know all this if you would find your way down your tower at least occasionally.”

Sybill gave a short mirthless laugh. “And what is your part in all of this?”

“My part? I am helping Albus. The Or – we are doing what we can to prevent those attacks. To stop You Know Who.”

“If he can be stopped.” Sybill muttered.

“At least I am doing something.” Minerva smoothed down her robes and was now standing in front of one of Sybill’s many mirrors, putting her hair back into a tight bun.

“Here.” Sybill handed her her glasses.

“Thank you. Would you – would you maybe like to come? To help?” Minerva asked.

“Help? How?”

“I suppose we could use someone with your… talents. For scrying. Divination.”

“I don’t think Albus would like me there.”

“I will ask him.” Minerva put her hand on Sybill’s arm. She pulled away.

“I don’t need you to do me any favours.”

“I’m not –“

“I will consult the tea leaves about which part I am to play in this. They have never disappointed me.”

“Very well.” Minerva nodded. “I – I shall return later.”

Sybill didn’t look at her. “As you said, I don’t find my way down my tower very often. You know where to find me.”

Biting her lips, Minerva opened the door leading to Sybill’s classroom and left.

~*~*~

After the meeting was over, Minerva didn’t leave immediately. Dumbledore however didn’t seem to notice. She cleared her throat.

“Minerva! I didn’t see you there. What can I do for you?”

“Yes, headmaster. It’s about – Professor Trelawney. This morning, Sybill mentioned to me her desire to help. Is there anything she could do for the Order?”

Albus looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Sybill wants to assist us?”

“She does.”

“Well, I am certain we can find something to do for her if she wants. We can always use a gifted seer.”

Minerva frowned, but Albus was smiling innocently. “I will talk to her about it in the morning, if that is alright with you? Now you will have to excuse me, there is a stack of unanswered Ministry letters and unfortunaly Fawkes has only just hatched.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you Albus.”

She left his office and then headed for the North Tower. Before she had reached the first flight of steps, however, she heard a student call out her name.

“Professor McGonagall?” She sighed. She would explain to Sybill later that as Deputy Headmistress and Head of House, she really didn’t have any holidays.

~*~*~

It was half past nine when Minerva knocked on Sybill’s door.

“Come in.”

Sybill was sitting on her bed, her legs crossed and her eyes closed. She appeared to be meditating. Minerva went to a chair standing near the fireplace and settled down, simply watching Sybill for a while. As always, entering Sybill’s rooms was like entering an entirely separate world, where the school and You Know Who almost ceased to exist.

“I spoke with Albus,” she finally said.

Sybill opened her eyes. “You did.”

“He wants to talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good.” Sybill closed her eyes again.

“Is everything alright?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I just expected you to be a little more enthusiastic about this.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Sybill uncrossed her legs. “You expect me to be enthusiastic about something that could kill me?”

Minerva frowned. “You don’t want to help?”

“No, Minerva. I don’t.”

“But you said –“

“I didn’t say anything. You were the one who suggested it. You are the one who wants to get me killed.”

“I do not – why would even say such a thing?”

“I consulted the tea leaves this afternoon. And my crystal ball.”

“And?” Minerva demanded.

“This isn’t working, Minerva.”

“What? I don’t know what you are talking about, Sybill!”

“This. Us. The war. It isn’t working.”

“Why? Why are you saying this all of a sudden?”

“I told you. But you never listen, do you?”

“I am listening, but I have to confess I don’t understand a single word you’re saying.” Minerva was clenching her hands in her lap, trying her best to remain calm. Sybill wasn’t looking at her.

“For one thing, I don’t want to be a part of this war. All I want is a quiet place of my own. I have been looking for something like this for years, and now that I’ve found it, I won’t give it up. You can’t force me to help you, Minerva.” Sybill’s voice was soft as always, but her tone was firm.

Minerva couldn’t believe she was hearing correctly. “You don’t. Want. To help?”

“No.”

“But that – that is wrong.”

“I’m a pacifist.” Sybill smiled.

“You’re a coward, Sybill! You could help us!”

“Are you saying that because you mean it or because you’re trying to ease your conscience?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is that you’re hardly ever around,” Sybill replied, her voice still calm. “We’ve been together since Christmas, yet I can count the nights we actually spent together on one hand. It’s bad enough that you’re Head of House and Deputy Head Mistress, but with your work for the Order –“

“How do you know about the Order?” Minerva asked.

“I’m a Seer, Minerva. Or did you forget?”Sybill’s smile turned sour. “And what I saw today was that this isn’t good. We shouldn’t be together.”

Minerva got up from her chair. “I think you’re right. I couldn’t be with someone who doesn’t believe in fighting for what is right.”

“And I can’t be with someone who is never around and who thinks that my profession is laughable.”

”I don’t –“

“I’ve seen your looks, and I’ve heard you talking about it with your colleagues. There is no need to pretend anymore, Minerva.”

She closed her eyes. “So what do we do now?”

“You leave. I would suggest you pick up your things first, but you know, there is nothing for you to pick up.”

“Very well.” Minerva looked into Sybill’s eyes. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Sybill resumed her position on her bed. She draped a scarf over her shoulders and lifted her arms. “Tell Albus I won’t be able to make it tomorrow.”

“I will.” Giving her one last look, Minerva turned around and left.

Spring felt like summer this year. The night was cold, but Minerva shivered. The waxing moon was outside and illuminating the halls. She closed her eyes and changed. An hour later she arrived in her office and curled up on her favourite place next to the fireplace.